


A Game of Chess

by fengirl88



Series: Patterns of Light [5]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Chess, M/M, Sexual Fantasy, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-08 01:32:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1921674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fengirl88/pseuds/fengirl88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“OK, then,” Erik says. “The loser gets a choice: truth or dare.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Game of Chess

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kalypso for invaluable beta suggestions, and to dofp_marathon, #xmentales chat and ushobwri for encouragement and advice.

The air in DC is like a damp wool blanket, heavy and stifling. MacTaggert's office has a ceiling fan, but it doesn't make much difference on a day like today. Even the pile of papers in the in-tray seems limp, weighed down with the humidity.

“Oh, so you finally decided to show up, Lehnsherr? Nice of you to call.”

MacTaggert looks grim, and no wonder. Shaw is in custody but not charged yet, and time's running out. The extra day’s delay in Xavier’s arrival is the last thing she needs right now, and she's not going to leave Erik in any doubt about who she blames for that.

Erik lets the flow of her words pour over him – there’s no point in trying to defend himself, and anyway he’d do the same in her place. She'll be under pressure from all sides, with Shaw's lawyer pushing to get his client released and the Attorney's office wanting to freeze Shaw's assets. They've already lost two of their key witnesses to intimidation, and she must be wondering how they're going to hold it together until they get to trial. She needs a whipping-boy right around now, and Erik's the obvious candidate.

He wipes the sweat from his forehead and tries not to think of a long cold glass of beer, or a tall pitcher of lemonade with ice and mint. In his experience, that sort of fantasy just makes the heat feel worse.

Xavier looks uncomfortable, as if he wants to intervene but knows he’ll only make things worse if he does. Erik remembers his remark again, about getting on the wrong side of Agent MacTaggert. For the first time, he wonders how Xavier knows her; he wouldn’t have expected their paths to cross…

“Are you listening to me?” MacTaggert snaps.

“Sorry,” Erik says, and someone – Cassidy, he thinks – snickers about Detective Lehnsherr getting caught not paying attention, like a naughty second-grader.

“I said, take Mr Xavier to the Westin and don’t let him out of your sight.”

“Right,” Erik says. “What time do you need him in the morning?”

“Eight-thirty,” MacTaggert says. “Ms Darkholme wants to start going through his deposition as soon as she comes in. Now get out of here, and this time try not to screw up.”

“It’s not his fault the car broke down in the middle of nowhere,” Xavier protests.

MacTaggert gives him a withering look. “Save the testimony for the witness stand, Mr Xavier.”

 

The hotel is comfortable, luxurious even, after the motel and lodging-house nights, and there are two good-sized beds in the room. It’s too early to go to bed, though, so they order hamburgers and beer from room service.

“A game of chess?” Xavier suggests. “I find it helps to calm the mind.”

“You think the hotel has a chess set?”

Xavier grins. “No need. I have my own.”

He must really love the game – he’d had a scant two minutes to pack his one small holdall before hightailing it out of Shaw’s place.

“Black or white?” Erik says.

He picks up a pawn but then realizes there’s no point pretending the choice means anything; whichever side he plays, Xavier has an unfair advantage.

“I don’t use telepathy to cheat at chess,” Xavier says, flushing. “Give me the pawn, since you don’t trust me.”

“Sorry,” Erik says. Not exactly getting the game off to a good start.

Xavier puts his hands behind his back – which is something Erik really didn’t need to see. Too many fantasies suggest themselves to his treacherous brain, and from the way Xavier’s flush deepens, he’s getting them all…

“Choose,” Xavier says, holding out his fists.

Erik taps his right hand, and Xavier opens it to reveal the black pawn Erik hadn’t even seen him substitute for the white one. Excellent work, Detective.

“You don’t use your telepathy but you still cheat,” Erik says, and jabs him in the ribs, making Xavier yelp and squirm.

“Sorry,” Xavier says, laughing. “I couldn’t resist. You can play White if you want to.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Erik says. “I can still beat you.”

“Is that so?” Xavier sounds coolly amused.

Erik takes out his wallet. “Thirty bucks says I can.”

“I wouldn’t dream of taking your money,” Xavier says.

Erik pushes down the thought _Why not? You took Shaw’s._

“OK, then,” he says. “The loser gets a choice: truth or dare.”

Xavier has that smug look that makes Erik want to slap him. “Excellent,” he says. “Let’s have another drink. How about a Scotch this time?”

Erik can’t see MacTaggert happily footing the bill for Scotch from room service, and says so. Xavier grins and fishes a bottle out of the holdall. Right, because he never travels without that either? Or did he think it would come in handy for seducing any hard-bitten cops who might cross his path?

 _I have no intention of seducing you_. Xavier’s voice in his head sounds oddly prim.

“Your move,” Erik says.

Xavier gives him a long look, as if he’s trying to work out whether that was meant to be a double entendre. But he doesn’t say anything; he moves his pawn to K4 and pours two stiff whiskies, offering one to Erik.

It’s good Scotch. Erik wonders if Shaw paid for that, too, and the thought burns more fiercely than the spirits.

 

It takes two hours and quite a lot of Scotch for the game to reach its climax. Erik’s glass is empty again.

“More?” Xavier says, and licks his lips.

“Stop trying to distract me,” Erik growls.

Xavier puts his hands up as if he’s pleading guilty, but he’s smirking again, damn him. Not for the first time Erik wants to bite that smirk right off his stupid red mouth. 

Instead, he moves his queen and says “Checkmate.” 

“Bugger,” Xavier says. “I should have seen that coming.” _Now do you believe I wasn’t cheating?_

 _Maybe_ , Erik thinks grudgingly back at him. 

“Congratulations,” Xavier says, mock-formal. “You win.”

He refills his glass and looks consideringly at Erik. “Do you want another?”

Erik knows he should refuse; hangovers and work don’t mix. “OK,” he says. “Thanks.” 

“Good man,” Xavier says, with that smug note in his voice that makes Erik want to smack him. “To the victor the spoils.”

“Right,” Erik says. He takes a long drink, savouring the good burn as it softens to a glow.

Xavier’s lips quirk in a faint smile. He raises his eyebrows, as if to say _What are you waiting for?_

“So,” Erik says. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Xavier says, without missing a beat.

“Really?” Erik says, though it’s no more than he expected. “Don’t you want to hear the question first? Or do you already know what it is?”

Xavier winces. “Whatever it is, you know I can’t answer it,” he says. “It’s not safe for you to know any more about me than you do already.”

That’s true, of course; but it was true before they started the game. Was Xavier so confident he’d win?

“Maybe I wanted to see what your dare would be,” Xavier says. 

The words are light, but the look that goes with them makes Erik feel as if there’s not enough air in the room.

“Don’t you know?” Erik challenges him, matching stare for stare, and sees that slow flush creeping up from the base of Xavier’s throat, that little hollow he wants to lick –

“Say it,” Xavier’s voice is unexpectedly rough, on the edge between demand and begging.

Erik’s blood is pounding in his ears, so loud he wonders if Xavier hears it too. “Your mouth,” he says.

Xavier’s stare is openly greedy now, half-glazed with whisky and lust. He pulls at his lips with one finger, as if he _wants_ to show off how moist and red they are. It’s obscene, and Erik’s shamefully hard just from watching him and imagining.

 _Is this what you want?_ Xavier’s voice in his head makes Erik feel hot all over, even before the mental image hits him: Xavier on his knees, still fully clothed, and Erik with his fly unzipped and his cock jutting out, flushed dark with blood, as he fucks Xavier’s mouth, twisting his hand in Xavier’s hair till tears start from his eyes –

 _Or was it more like this?_ Xavier’s voice persists, as Erik gasps and grips the wooden arms of his chair, trying to steady himself against the dizzying wave of lust that sweeps over him.

This time the image has Xavier straddling him in the chair, unbuttoning Erik’s shirt and slowly working his way down his body with lingering kisses, licking and biting at Erik’s neck, his collarbone, tonguing his nipples and sucking them till they stand out hard and aching. It’s so real Erik has to bite back a moan.

 _Getting warmer?_ Xavier teases, and Erik sees himself naked, Xavier pushing him onto his back on the bed, Xavier taking control of Erik’s powers to hold him down, wrapping the tendrils of the iron bed-frame around his wrists. The image is so vivid he can _feel_ Xavier mouthing the tip of his cock with maddening gentleness, too light and soft to get Erik off, making him writhe and arch up off the bed; Xavier licking and sucking at his balls, teasing the shaft with slow twisting strokes, his fingers and palm almost but not quite giving Erik the pressure he needs, drawing it out until Erik breaks and begs –

“So,” Xavier says aloud, and his voice is hoarse. “What do you want with my mouth?”

Erik drains his glass and sets it down again, furious that his hands are shaking. He takes a deep breath. “Everything.”


End file.
